


All that glitters

by awaywiththefairies



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ, JYJ - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, Prostitution, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awaywiththefairies/pseuds/awaywiththefairies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaejoong wasn’t there for those pleasures, not the ones that came with an aftertaste of sewer in your mouth and a disease on your dick. No, he was there for something much more perfect. After all, diamonds came into existence underneath layers and layers of dirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All that glitters

 

The harbour wasn’t a pretty place. The sea’s pull seemed to stretch the souls of sailors out so thin, that when they hit the harbour they desperately tried to patch the holes with alcohol and sex. And where there was a need, the city catered; inns, bars and brothels seemed to fill every building, shack, and street of this neighbourhood. At first glance the streets seemed lively and inviting; there were lanterns above the doors, musicians playing bawdy songs, and seemingly pretty ladies out on the streets, flirting and beckoning to customers while boys working for inn-keepers shouted out the low prices of their particularly good ales in between nicking a coin here and there.

But Jaejoong wasn’t there for those pleasures, not the ones that came with an aftertaste of sewer in your mouth and a disease on your dick. No, he was there for something much more perfect. After all, diamonds came into existence underneath layers and layers of dirt. He knew most people would still judge him for even stepping through the single gate into this area. His reputation as an upstanding gentleman would be ruined if anyone found out, and his chances at a good match and a stable life when he was older would be gone. But he could not resist.

He sidestepped another flea-ridden beggar and wrapped his long woollen coat around him, hiding his shiver of disgust. The streets were murky and he didn’t want to look down to determine the exact composition of the smelly fluid that wasn’t quite mud. He winced when he stepped in a particularly deep puddle, and cursed the uneven cobblestones when he almost fell on the next step. The lanterns that lit the rest of the city were sparse here, and he never could decide whether the purpose of the darkness was for him to hide in or to conceal others from him.

He took another left, deeper into the alleyways, away from the main street where most of the sailors ended up. This was where he had to be careful, a clear target for pickpockets and worse, even with his disguise, and he quickly went down the stairs that would lead him closer to the water. Another couple of turns, nobody in sight, and he breathed a little easier. He was close.

When the mint-green door finally came into sight he let out a breathless laugh, anticipation and anxiety combining into a heartbeat that matched the drums he could still hear from a couple of streets away. Almost tenderly he traced the leaves carved into the wood; graceful lines, but yet another layer hiding the real beauty. He knocked, a firm and steady pattern that changed every month or so.

It wasn’t long before the door opened slightly, an unfamiliar face giving him a careful once over, before stepping aside and letting him in. Inside, the servant girl took his coat and hat and led him down the hall where she pointed at a door before leaving him alone. Hand on the doorknob he revelled in the hum of conversation and the sensual music he could already hear. No longer able to curb his impatience, he entered.

Immediately he was recognized by the lady of the house, who pulled him further into the room, chatting all the while about people he really should meet and how was he and it had been far too long, although it had been only a couple of days ago. Jaejoong basked in the light and the comfortable atmosphere, greeting entertainers and guests and taking in this week’s exotic decorations, but there was only one thought at the back of his mind.

“Is he here?” he asked her, halting her flow of words.

She gazed at him, a knowing look in her eyes. “You know he is his own.”

Jaejoong nodded and got a smile in return. “Patience, my dear,” She continued and led the way to the other end of the room, where there was still a half-empty couch. As soon as he was seated she offered him the usual. “Try our other fruits first.”

He took the offered glass instead of the pipe, more out of politeness than anything else; he never knew what was in it and the smoke in the room was already making him light-headed. Moreover, he didn’t need anything else, just the one thing. The lady smiled knowingly and left him alone.

While he waited he admired the décor, because that was what it was. It wasn’t a home, or even a shop; it was a stage. Lights and furniture were placed to show off the best side of those that worked here. Subtly placed bouquets added colour and luxury to the room as well as spreading a delightful scent that mixed with the smoke into a heady fragrance. The carpets looked expensive and the paintings drew you in. The only difference was that the audience was in the middle of the play, on couches and chairs that sucked you in and never wanted to let you go.

Lost in his thoughts, he leaned back against the lush pillows. His patience was stretched thin already; he had waited too long to return. Each time he left, he swore it was the last time and each time he came back. Sometimes he managed to make it through a month without breaking, and sometimes he didn’t even wait until the end of the week. _Addict._ The word taunted him.

He’d all but forgotten about the other men in the room, when someone settled down next to him, just a little bit too close. The man was tall and unfamiliar, but just as beautiful as all those who worked here, with defined cheekbones and a sensual mouth.

A hand slipped up his thigh. “Hello,” the man said, almost purring. Jaejoong waited for any form of introduction, but when the man seemed to want to skip that part altogether, he removed the hand now on his chest.

“I’m not interested,” Jaejoong said with a sigh. He couldn’t deny it was tempting to just pick this man instead of waiting in insecurity, but he could always do that afterwards.

The man frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not interested,” Jaejoong repeated himself politely. The man must be new here.

“How can you not be interested? This is a brothel. If it’s my face you’re not interested in, just say so.”

Jaejoong flinched at the word and the man’s sharp eyes caught it. He smiled, but annoyance was obvious in his stance when he stood up.

“You’re one of his dreamers aren’t you?” the man said scathingly.

Jaejoong had heard the term before, whispered in the corners, behind his back as he was drawn upstairs, but to have it thrown at him was more than he would take.

“That’s -”

Fingers stilled his lips. When he met the man’s eyes, all he saw was pity, and it scared him.

“If you ever crave something more real…” He trailed off. After a long look, the man gave him a cursory bow and walked away. Jaejoong watched him make his way through the room, smooth and certain, until he had found a new target.

He found himself uneasy after that. Picking up his glass, setting it down again, smoothing down his jacket, tapping his foot against the floor. At a certain point he spotted the hostess talking to the guests and practically jumped up, ready to harass her with questions. Where, When, Who, Today? But she wisely avoided him. He sighed and sat back down.

He was on his third glass, too far gone and already regretting it, when a familiar murmur started on the other side of the room. It took Jaejoong longer than usual to realise what it meant and it was only because some people flocked around the staircase that he noticed at all.

However, as soon as he heard the footsteps on the first floor, he knew. And suddenly, in the murmur, he could recognise the word that had been whispering its letters in his ear all week. Xia.

He could feel the anticipation build up with every step and suddenly he needed to be closer. He nudged and shifted until he could see the top of the stairs. Everyone had gone silent around him, either out of curiosity or admiration, and his breath, as a result of his efforts, suddenly seemed disproportionately loud.

Xia came down gracefully, smiling. His hair today was unnaturally blonde, almost white, and his outfit was chosen to match; the translucent fabric of his shirt showed off hints of pale skin, just enough for it to be tantalizing. His elaborate make-up only accentuated his otherness and Jaejoong couldn’t help but stare. He looked like an angel, even if he wasn’t wearing wings today, like an exotic beauty out of some fairy-tale. The buzz around him increased with his every step, yet he was stunned into silence.

As soon as his feet hit the floor, the guests parted to make way. Most of the people there went back to what they had been doing before, either out of embarrassment at being taken in, or because they knew they couldn’t afford it. Jaejoong didn’t.

Xia greeted some of the guests personally; soft kisses here, a caress there, until he eventually came to where Jaejoong was standing. His eyes lit up with joy, that Jaejoong desperately hoped wasn’t just his imagination, before a more muted but nonetheless pleased smile followed suit.

“Jaejoong,” Xia said, voice soft.

Jaejoong smiled and nodded his greeting, but dared not reach out. It wasn’t his choice. He could see the hostess behind Xia, trying to subtly get his attention, probably wanting to guide him to richer clients, but Xia waved her off without making eye-contact.

“You came back.” Even while well on its way to whispering, his voice was still melodic.

“I always do,” Jaejoong replied.

“But not usually so soon,” Xia teased him.

Jaejoong swallowed, captivated by the other’s smile. “You’re hard to resist.” And he had gotten a good deal on one of his creations.

The distinctive laugh made his heart flutter. Before he had time to recover, Xia had grabbed his hand.

“Come,” he said unnecessarily while leading him away.

Jaejoong could hear the murmur increase in volume around them as they approached the stairs. He knew what they were saying. He knew that if he looked away from Xia he’d come face to face with dozens of disapproving, envious stares. Xia would not be entertaining them tonight.

He couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of guilt. He’d been in their position. Before he’d caught the other’s interest, he had spent whole nights waiting to catch a glimpse, to exchange a few words or touches with him, to watch him glide through the guests, almost ethereally, to wonder what the night’s theme would be. He was taking that away from them, and he knew it, even as his heart beat faster with every step he took up the stairs.

He knew the way, but he dared not assume, so he followed Xia through the hallway lined with doors, to the end; the largest room, his room. It was familiar to him already but his feet still felt heavy with anticipation as he stepped inside. Xia locked the door behind him.

The silence wrapped around them like a delicate cocoon and he watched as something seemed to slide off Xia’s shoulder. His smile seemed brighter now that he no longer had to deal with everyone watching him, listening to him. Only Jaejoong was left.

“Jae,” he whispered, reaching out to him. Jaejoong didn’t hesitate and moved into his embrace. Hands cupped his face, pulling him close, keeping him steady. He let his arms come up around the other and carefully placed his hands on his back, holding him, but not caging him in.

“Missed you,” Xia whispered almost against his lips. Jaejoong breathed in shallowly, overwhelmed. The scent of flowers blooming, of lazy summer days, enveloped him and his reply was almost a sigh. “So much.”

Still he waited for Xia to make the first move, to set the rules. Hands moved and arms wrapped around his shoulders, bringing them even closer together. A slight shift, a nuzzle, and then there were lips against his, only the lightest touch. He bit back a moan and restrained the urge to hold on to the other tightly as he responded in kind. Impatiently, he soon started licking and nipping at Xia’s lips, teasing a giggle out of him. He made full use of the moment to press in closer, kiss him deeper. Before long the laughter turned into soft moans and gasps, and his fingers clenched in the fine-spun fabric of the other’s shirt.

Too early Xia pulled away, his lips red, and Jaejoong buried his face in his neck with a groan, unwilling to let go of him.

“Jae, come on. We haven’t got that much time.” His voice was tinged with sadness. It only made Jaejoong want to hold him even tighter. Smooth fingers caressed his neck.

“Leave with me,” Jaejoong pleaded.

He knew he had made a mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. Xia stiffened and moved out of his grasp, his back turned to him. Jaejoong clenched his hands into fists in frustration and cursed himself quietly.

“I’m sorry,” he added after a couple of breaths.

“You know I can’t,” Xia said softly, expression hidden from him.

“I know,” Jaejoong acknowledged, though it cost him dearly. “I’m sorry.”

It remained quiet after that, and Jaejoong stared at the dark-wooden floor, waiting for the words that would dismiss him. They didn’t come right away and he felt frozen to the spot, afraid that any movement or sound might disrupt their impasse.

He only looked up when he heard rustling and watched in wonder as Xia let his shirt drop to the floor and slowly walked over to his bed. After having taken off his shoes, Xia calmly pulled the gauzy curtains aside and climbed onto the mattress, letting them fall closed behind him. Jaejoong stared at the flickering silhouette created by the candles near the bed as he watched him lay down slowly, merging with the shadow of the bed.

Seconds, maybe minutes passed, and Jaejoong was starting to fidget. He chewed on his lower lip in indecision. What was he supposed to do? Did Xia want him to leave? To stay?

A gasp, so soft he almost didn’t hear it, came from the bed, and his heart skipped a beat. A moan followed soon afterwards, and he couldn’t stop himself anymore, regardless of the consequences. Five steps and he was there, pulling the curtains to the side.

Xia was spread out on the bed, surrounded by pillows, half-naked and touching himself. Even under Jaejoong’s gaze he continued to lazily rub himself through his pants, fingers tracing the seam, the outline of his cock. Little moans escaped him even as his hips moved in search of more friction. Jaejoong could only stare, mouth dry.

“Jae,” Xia moaned as he turned his head, opened his eyes halfway and searched for Jaejoong’s. He lost himself in their depths and had a knee on the bed even before a hand reached out to him to pull him near. Back in Xia’s embrace, he inhaled deeply, taking in the comforting scent.

“What took you so long,” Xia mumbled, but when Jaejoong opened his mouth to answer, he stole another kiss while pulling at his clothes. Jaejoong got the hint and tried to take his clothes of as fast as possible, spurred on by Xia thrusting up against him.

As soon as he had his pants off, he fell back against the other and kissed him deeply, finally allowing his hands to explore the skin that was revealed before. In the candlelight Xia seemed even more fragile and Jaejoong treated him as if he could fall apart any moment, brushing his fingers along the lines of his body, committing him to memory. Breathless laughter spurred him on as he retraced the same paths with his lips, making Xia squirm in delight. He mourned the fact that he couldn’t leave marks, but he understood. If he could see the marks other men had made before him, it would break his heart. Even the thought pained him and he quickly searched out Xia’s lips to lose himself once more.

More impatient than him, Xia pulled away after only a short moment and nibbled on his ear, not under the same restrictions unless asked.

“Hurry, I want you inside me.”

The words were coupled with hips pressing up against him demandingly and it almost stilled Jaejoong’s heart. His body caught on faster than his brain, however, and his hands were already pulling at the last of Xia’s clothes.

When they were both naked, and he was on his knees near the end of the bed, Jaejoong paused, breathing heavily. Xia really was a sight to behold and he wished he could hire a painter to capture this moment, this particular image, but it was not to be. Xia smirked at him, and Jaejoong watched breathlessly as he slowly moved his hand down and pinched a nipple, torturing himself, before sliding his hand further down, over his stomach, closer and closer to its goal. Jaejoong grabbed his wrist right before he reached his already hard cock. He stopped the protest that he knew was about to come by leaning forward and taking him into his mouth. Letting go of the wrist, he moaned happily as the fingers slid into his hair approvingly instead.

He had not done this before, but it didn’t matter. Jaejoong knew the basics, had heard other people talk of this, and Xia guided him with both hands on his head. His moans were instruction enough as Jaejoong sucked and licked and kissed, his hand stroking what he could not take. When Xia tightened his hold on his hair and started thrusting slowly, he let him, trying to relax and take it all as Xia had done for him before. It wasn’t as easy as it had looked and he fought his gag reflex, desperate to hear more of those beautiful sighs, until he finally couldn’t anymore. Xia protested the loss of his mouth vocally and it was only when Jaejoong coughed to get rid of the feeling in his throat that Xia noticed his mistake.

“Oh Jae, I’m sorry!” Xia said as he sat up quickly.

His hands were already pulling at him, gathering him close. Jaejoong laughed and wordlessly asked for a kiss. They fell down on the bed together again, laughing, as Xia showered him with kisses and murmured apologies. Jaejoong kissed those away, and started stroking Xia’s cock slowly, the way he liked it.

Xia arched into his touch with a groan and spread his legs, half-inviting, half-demanding. Jaejoong got the hint either way and moved in between them. It took him a few seconds to draw his mind out of the haze of desire and reach for the bowl of oil on the bed stand. Xia watched him intently as he dipped his fingers in the liquid and tried not to drip any on the sheets. With his other hand he pushed one of Xia’s legs up, exposing him. He always seemed to enjoy this part, and Jaejoong couldn’t deny that he did too as he rubbed his fingers teasingly over the other’s entrance. He watched in fascination as he pushed his index finger slowly inside. Xia tensed up, but relaxed with the next breath, smiling up at him. “Feels so good, Jae.” The encouragement was clear.

Xia didn’t need that much preparation, but Jaejoong enjoyed fingering him, watching his expressions as he teased, slipped in a second finger easily, a third. He put to use what Xia had taught him all those nights ago, and soon had him moaning and squirming underneath his touch as he pressed and rubbed against the bundle of nerves inside him.

“Please, more,” Xia pleaded, flushed with pleasure.

He wanted to explore the other more, but wasn’t one to deny Xia his wishes. Pulling his fingers out reluctantly, he watched the hole clench around nothing and couldn’t resist rubbing his thumb over the rim. Xia groaned in frustration and thrust his hips at him, making it slip inside slightly. Jaejoong bit his lip at the feeling but managed to pull himself away to reach for the bowl again. Xia reached it first, however, and dipped his own hand in the oil. Supporting himself on his elbow, he leaned forward and took Jaejoong’s cock into his hand. Slowly, he stroked it, spreading the oil and coating it liberally. Even though he was already on his knees, Jaejoong felt like they were about to buckle underneath him; Xia was incredibly good with his hands, rubbing his thumb over the slit, under the head, stroking up and down with just the right amount of pressure, all the while looking Jaejoong in the eye with the most sexy smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. Lips that he suddenly needed to kiss very badly.

He moved forwards, pressing Xia back into the mattress with a hand on his shoulder, and put his weight on his forearm next to Xia’s head. The hand on his cock let go, and Xia looked up at him, uncertain. Jaejoong relished the open expression on his face and quickly leaned in to kiss him, before his heart burst.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, and kissed him again, stealing his reply.

He got a response then, a muted whimper, and lips moving underneath his as fingers buried themselves in his hair. He kept the kiss slow, savouring the moment, even when Xia pushed for more. Every time the other tried to protest, he quieted the impatient noises with another kiss or touch, trying to contain the laughter that bubbled up inside of him. Xia’s frustrated expression was adorable and the small gasp that he teased out by unexpectedly twisting one of his nipples made him break out into a wide smile that he hid in Xia’s neck.

Xia huffed and wrapped his legs around his waist. With one move he pulled Jaejoong completely on top of him, took a hold of his cock again and guided him in the right direction, as if Jaejoong was unable to do it himself. He didn’t mind though, as Xia teased himself by moving his cock up and down his cleft; it meant he had his own hands free to touch and explore as he tried not to give in and thrust inside, even though the feeling was killing him.

“Come on,” Xia whined and when Jaejoong kissed him again, he bit down on his bottom lip in annoyance. Jaejoong just kissed him once more, but didn’t protest when Xia grabbed his hip and pulled him forwards, forcing him inside.

The feeling of sliding into that tight heat was amazing and Jaejoong fought down his instinct to just thrust in and out wildly until he came, which would not take long. He felt embarrassed that he was so close already, but Xia always had that effect on him, and the erection pressing against his belly told a similar story. He stilled as soon as he was completely inside. Xia sighed against him, his breath hot against his neck.

The first shallow thrusts made them both moan, Xia’s hands clutching at his back. Jaejoong revelled in the exquisite friction. Unable to contain them, he showered Xia with praises of beauty and perfection, kissing every expanse of skin he could reach, while still keeping them intertwined as they were. The position limited their pleasure in a delightfully torturous way, until Xia couldn’t take it anymore and started pushing at him, pleading with him for more, harder. The embrace lost, Jaejoong pulled out and moved back on his knees. Xia held himself open for him, hands under his knees, and all Jaejoong had to do was thrust back in.

He fucked him harder this time, hands gripping hips, and watched how his thrusts shook Xia underneath him. The other seemed pleased with the new position and rolled his head to the side, lost in pleasure. He was biting his lip, keeping his beautiful moans inside, but there was nothing Jaejoong could do about that now. He watched as Xia reached for his own erection and started stroking it, bringing himself closer and closer. Jaejoong wanted badly to touch him, to do it for him, but he was so close, and the sight of Xia moaning under his own touch did nothing to bring him back from the brink.

A few hard thrusts and he was coming, pleasure shooting through his veins. He almost collapsed on top of Xia before he caught himself. Immediately he searched out the other’s lips again, and when Xia’s didn’t turn to him, he kissed his neck instead. Xia was still tense beneath him and Jaejoong rubbed his sides, his nipples, squeezed his ass, as he felt more than saw Xia working his own cock furiously. When he came, only seconds later, Xia arched off the bed, into him, and clenched around Jaejoong’s sensitive cock. Jaejoong groaned at the feeling and carefully pulled out soon afterwards, drawing another soft moan from Xia.

His hand gently moved up and down Xia’s side while they both caught their breath. After a moment Xia opened his eyes again and smiled up at him. Jaejoong stole the kiss he wanted before Xia lowered his legs and shifted slightly, his expression showing slight discomfort. Jaejoong kissed him again. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Jaejoong moved onto his back so he wasn’t lying on top of him, and wrapped his arms around Xia, pulling him close. Not being inside of him only made the urge to be close greater. An arm was thrown over him in return as Xia settled down with his head on Jaejoong’s shoulder.

Jaejoong touched the blonde hair, letting the locks glide through his fingers. It had been brown the last time he’d seen him. “When?”

A lazy smile. “Yesterday.”

Jaejoong nodded. He’d liked the brown better. The blonde hair just made it even more unreal.

They didn’t have long now. Xia would soon become uncomfortable, wanting to clean himself up, and he would be asked to leave. Words ran around in his head, things he needed to say, but he couldn’t get them in the proper order to speak. Xia seemed to sense it and nuzzled his neck comfortingly.

“I love you,” Jaejoong blurted out.

Xia smiled up at him sadly, not allowed to reply. Jaejoong was aware of this, but it still felt like a stab to his heart. He sat up. Xia hugged him from behind and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Jaejoong nodded, but still got out of the bed. The room suddenly felt oppressive. It felt like he was caught in a spider’s web. He needed fresh air. In a rush, he pulled on his clothes. He didn’t notice Xia move off the bed until he reached for the door, and he was there, a sheet his armour.

“Jae.” His eyes pleaded with him to calm down, his expression desperate. The hand not holding the sheet reached out to him. Jaejoong took a step back.

“Please, Jae.” His voice trembled. He was either a very good actor, or genuinely upset. “Anything, please, anything, but don’t leave like this.”

“Anything?” Jaejoong whispered.

Xia nodded, hope in his eyes, and took a step towards him.

“Your name. Give me your name.” Jaejoong said.

Xia froze. Looked away, pained. “I-”

Something shuttered closed in his expression. His back straightened and he looked back up at him. “I can’t.” His voice was steady, his jaws clenched together. Jaejoong was not allowed to ask for that either.

He gently framed Xia’s face with his hands and kissed him one last time. Just a press of lips. Xia didn’t respond to him.

Jaejoong closed his eyes, steeled his heart and walked out of the room without looking back.

The hostess was waiting for him when he came down the stairs. She was all smiles, not deterred by his dark expression, and asked him how it was, if he’d like to stay some more. Had Xia not been pleasing? There were others he could try for a reduced price? Jaejoong shook his head and gave her the envelope with the money he had so carefully counted only yesterday. She smiled, more genuine, but the greed showed in her eyes. Jaejoong shuddered, and tried not to think of how little of that money would end up in Xia’s hands.

He ignored her polite babble and made his way to the door with slightly more force than necessary. Not that he had any friends among the patrons in the first place. The hostess followed him, and after asking three times, eventually handed him his coat and hat. He shut the door behind him in her still smiling face. Her ‘please come again’ was thankfully cut off in the middle.

It was colder outside than he remembered and he pulled his coat closer around him before he jogged to the main street of the harbour. He didn’t want to get caught outside at this time of night. Even in the main street, most people had already gone; left for home or invited in. Only some drunken stragglers, close to losing conscience, were still outside. It suited him just fine.

He reached his home safely and relocked the door to his shop behind him, still trying not to think too much. He started pulling off his clothes as soon as he had climbed up the stairs to his floor, dropping them wherever; they smelled like him, like his room. He’d regret it in the morning when he would find them again, all creased and treated cruelly, but at the moment he couldn’t care less. He did not even wash up, just fell into his bed and tried to find solace in sleep. Maybe dreams would mend the cracks in his heart.

\--

Two days later, a rich client returned and requested another suit by him, claiming that the last suit Jaejoong had made for him was the best garment he had ever owned. He even paid up front, and royally. Jaejoong spent all day staring at the money. It was more than enough. His assistant asked him if he was okay until he snapped at him. It was quiet then, except for the rustling of fabric.

When it became dark, he sent the boy home, and put the money away. The next days he worked hard on the suit. The client was pleased. And influential. He soon had more customers than he could handle and had to look for more help. He was becoming established. It was what he had always dreamed of, and he tried to lose himself in his work.

It took two months before he gave in and hesitantly took the amount of money he would need. He grabbed his old clothes, not the ones he could afford now, but the ones he’d never worn again after that night. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he followed the familiar path, and there seemed to be something stuck in his throat no matter how many times he swallowed. When he finally stood in front of the green door, he didn’t give himself time to think and knocked the last pattern that had come to him through the grapevine.

The door remained closed. He knocked again, listened. Nothing. Maybe there weren’t that many customers, or maybe they hadn’t heard his knock. He practically pounded on the door this time, panic crawling up on him. A man he hadn’t seen before walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He immediately shrugged it off and thought of the money he had on him.

He turned around and came face to face with a beggar, the stench of alcohol all over him, and a bottle in his hands. Jaejoong could see that it had once been a man of some standing, by the cut of what was left of his clothes. But he was but a shade of a person now. He had no money for those who ruined themselves. He turned back to the door and knocked again, trying an older pattern that came back every once in a while, hoping that the man would go away, or the door would open.

“It’s no longer there, boy.” The man said. “They got caught.”

Jaejoong froze. “No.”

“They got caught, and you better move. They still watch these parts.” The man held up his hand. Advice always had a price in these regions, even if you didn’t want it.

“No,” he whispered again, seeking support against the door. He knew it was illegal, knew what happened to those who got caught. Prison. Years in prison. It had never deterred him but suddenly it was painfully real. And Xia was gone.

A sound from around the corner startled him and the beggar looked at him one last time before he scrambled. Jaejoong was quick to follow the man. He had no illusions about knowing the way to disappear in these parts. Several turns later the beggar paused and listened. Seconds went by before he relaxed. He turned to Jaejoong and held his hand up again. “Told you.”

Jaejoong had no way of knowing who had been coming down the street but he reached inside his coat pocket anyway, and placed the envelope in the man’s hands. The man looked at him strangely.

“Main Street?” Jaejoong asked.

The man pointed him to the right and did not watch him go. Jaejoong barely registered the shout of joy he heard when he was two streets away.

\--

He went back once, during the day, and stood in the alley that looked out on the door. It seemed less mysterious now, with the green paint starting to peel off and all of the grime clearly visible in the bright light of the sun. There was no one there.

Jaejoong got engaged to the daughter of one of his most loyal customers. It wasn’t marrying up, and he probably could do better with the money he had accumulated, but he had known the girl for ages and she was pleasant enough to be around. He figured it would work out.

In preparation for their wedding he met her in the rich but beautiful part of the city, the part where he would never feel at home. But she had dressed up and looked gorgeous and he didn’t mind showing her off.

She dragged him to her favourite florist while chattering on about flowers and decorations that Jaejoong didn’t really care about. A wedding was a wedding whether it had flowers or not. He smiled and nodded at the right moments to keep her happy.

The shop looked unlike other florists; painted with bright colours and flowers of all sorts everywhere, instead of the more severe, but elegant shops he was used to. His fiancée practically ran ahead of him, with as much dignity as she could, and he smiled when she almost tripped, but caught herself on the door handle in time. He calmly followed her inside.

There was nobody in the front of the shop, so his fiancée rung the bell on the counter, while looking all around. Jaejoong felt something niggle at the back of his mind, but couldn’t place it until he took a deep breath: The scent of flowers.

He grabbed his fiancée’s wrist. “Who runs this shop?”

She looked surprised at his urgency. “A man named Junsu, why?”

Jaejoong didn’t respond and instead turned the name over and over in his thoughts. _Junsu_. Impossible.

“He’s really kind. I’m a regular customer here, as are my friends, and we’ve always gotten quality service and the flowers are gorgeous.” She seemed to sense something was wrong but it was almost laughable how far away from the problem she really was. Jaejoong nodded to shut her up.

The door to the back opened and someone greeted them. A boy, not Xia.

“I’m sorry, the owner is out for a moment, but I’d be very happy to help you,” the boy said.

His fiancée nodded happily and started telling him about her ideas, the boy chiming in with helpful suggestions, showing her pieces, letting her smell flowers. Jaejoong stayed near the entrance, uncomfortable. He was looking at a flower he didn’t know when the door opened and someone came in.

It was him. His hair was black, hands covered in dirt, and he was wearing simple clothes, but it was him. Jaejoong thought he looked ordinary.

“Junsu.” He finally allowed his tongue to try out the name. It felt unfamiliar.

The man stared at him in shock. “Jaejoong?”

It was definitely him. The familiarity of that voice made his heart ache.

“Oh, you two know each other?” His fiancée came up to them, followed by the boy. She didn’t wait for their reply, but instead greeted Junsu warmly. Jaejoong wished he was her when Junsu smiled at her and apologized for not shaking her hands, he did not want to soil her beautiful dress after all. She was laved in compliments and Jaejoong suddenly understood all too well how he had gotten so popular as a mere florist, to be able to have a shop in this district; his charm was still the same. Or maybe he had paid for it with the money he had earned before.

“So how do you two know each other?” she asked again.

“We don’t,” Jaejoong said calmly and Junsu’s head shot up, something flashing in his eyes. His fiancée frowned but was back to her chipper self within moments.

“Well, let me introduce you two then. Junsu, this is Jaejoong, my future husband. Jaejoong, Junsu.”

They shook hands, careless of the dirt, but Junsu avoided eye-contact and smoothly turned the topic back to flowers as soon as was politely possible. The boy updated him on what he’d already shown her and he picked up where they’d left off. Jaejoong watched him as he moved through the store, more stiffly than he remembered but that could be because of his presence. They seemed to reach a decision between the two of them, and Jaejoong gave his assent without listening to the explanations.

He told his fiancée to wait for him outside while he settled everything. The boy disappeared through the back door again. It turned quiet.  
He walked to the counter to complete their order, and Junsu followed him. While the florist wrote everything down that had been discussed, for him to agree upon, he couldn’t help but ask.

“Why flowers?”

The pen stilled.

“It’s fitting, isn’t it? Flowers are a fleeting beauty, an illusion already dying on the inside while you admire them,” Junsu replied, voice soft.

Jaejoong looked at his face, searched his expression, but came back with nothing more than an empty smile. He said nothing.

“We’re closing,” Junsu said and still didn’t meet his eyes.

Jaejoong didn’t protest that it was nowhere near closing time, but refused the receipt handed to him. Junsu walked around the counter and showed him to the door. Before he opened it, Junsu slipped the receipt into his breast pocket. His hand lingered for a moment and Jaejoong opened his mouth to say something. Anything.

“Bye Jaejoong.” Junsu opened the door and politely, but insistently, kicked him out. The sign in the window was turned to ‘closed’ only seconds later.

“They're closing?” his fiancée asked.

He smiled at her. “They’re going to work on your order in the back.”

She returned his smile and resumed her chatter. Jaejoong didn’t notice the spray of tiny blue flowers with yellow hearts in his breast pocket until he came home. He touched the little petals tenderly. He did not remember what the flowers were called, but he put them in a small glass of water and watched them slowly die.

 

 


End file.
